


Thirium for your Burn?

by taiyounoko



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ...at first ;), F/M, I just want to change things up so its not the same thing yall are reading, Previous Reader/Gavin, Reader and Hank are fuckin bros, however in general i will follow the plot, i will take liberty with many parts of the dialogue, reader does NOT like androids, very slow slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyounoko/pseuds/taiyounoko
Summary: As a long-standing detective on the DPD, hunting criminals comes to you like breathing. So when you're told an android called "Connor" is sent to work with you, you vow to be better; become perfect, so you can keep your job.Holding the job becomes less of your concerns, though, as you encounter more of these "deviant" androids during your cases, and you begin to notice just how... human, Connor appears, in both appearance and thought.And when you start to conceptualize Connor as being human, things start to get a lot more confusing. Especially when his face doesn't look half bad.Who said you couldn't administer Thirium for that burn of yours?
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader, Connor/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

-

“You think you could take down each and every one of these cops sitting in this office right now?”

“Eh,” you reply, shrugging. “Pretty sure I could take Miller down, also Stephenson, Johnson, Beret,-“

“I heard that!” From the distance, Chris.

“Not Gavin?” Hank interrupts with a snort. He adjusts the legs that are lounging up on his desk. He’s even more careless than usual, considering the glares you’ve seen from Captain Fowler’s office directed at Hank all day.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Hank,” you wave your right hand in the air, “That would be redundant. Look at _Gavin’s_ ,” you cough loudly, getting your coworker’s attention, “ _spindly_ little biceps, his ‘I don’t know how to properly bulk and cut’ abs, his _awful_ personality-”

“Christ,” Gavin shouts across the office space. “You wanna get punched or fuckin’ what? Jesus. Goddamn.” You can see him glaring at you, shaking his head side to side like some kind of bull. You figure it’s because he is. He mutters something else but you choose to pursue a wellness skill called _selective hearing_. Can’t hear any of the shithead’s words now.

“See? Told you so,” you say to Hank, looking pointedly in his direction. All Hank does is sigh and shrug his shoulders. You watch him pick at his teeth, and reposition his arms behind his head to lean back in his chair. Something about his mannerisms is markedly different today. Well, not _different_ different; he just looks like death hit him in the face.

You lean over towards Hank’s desk, setting down your screen pad. “Hank, you seem distant. What’s up with that?” You ask. 

“Fuckin’ androids,” is all you hear from your desk across the aisle from Hank’s. His words light a match under the trails of gas that line your blood and lead straight to your heart. “I can’t believe this shit, you know?”

“What?” You ask, standing up to approach Hank’s desk. His tone, and posture, have become as dark as the thunderclouds outside. Your own breathing hitches. “What- what happened?”

Hank looks up from a stack of papers. He certainly wasn’t reading them, what with the empty look in his eyes. “They fuckin’ assigned me an android.” 

“ _What_?” You whisper, anger grasping at the meaning of his words. _Who? The government assigned him a housemaid bot_? Oh, wait. You blink the mildly funny image out of your head. He must mean the department. Your fist clenches at your side. “What do you mean? The DPD?”

“Yes, the _fuckin’_ DPD,” Hank rolls his eyes, gesturing wildly with his hands. “They fuckin’ gave me a _robocop_. Can you believe that shit?”

Your heart begins to pound. “No,” you shake your head, letting a small smile come to your face. “There’s no way they did that. You’re joking. You? Lieutenant Hank Anderson? You’d rather kill yourself than touch one.”

“I _fuckin’_ know! And _Fowler_ ,” Hank mutters under his breath, speaking the Captain’s name like he’s a devout man speaking of sin, “ _assigned_ me one. As some _detective_. Fucker’s name is _Connor._ Fuckin’ Connor.”

Connor. An android. Your heart feels heavy with hatred weighing it down. You almost want to laugh at how absurd the idea is: Hank walking around with his pet android cop. It’s ridiculous. 

“What about me?” You ask. You’re usually assigned under Hank with some cases, especially homicides and general assault. “What’s gonna happen to me if some perfect robot shows up and replaces me?”

Hank’s gaze at you shifts, and there’s the smallest sparkle of concern that only you can see in the rest of the deep, deep ocean that is his pissed off expression.

“You look like you’re gonna snap it’s neck in half more than I feel like doing it,” Hank notes, eyeing you up and down. It’s true that your arms are crossed, your body feels rigid, and you’re pretty sure you’re the type of upset where that ugly vein pops out of your neck. “Look, it’s not the worst. I’ll just tell it to fuck off and it’ll do as it’s told. Robot, right?” He shakes his head. “You’re stickin’ around on the cases as I see fit. Gotta be my backup in case Mr. Robocop decides to go crazy. Don’t wanna have nobody behind my back.”

You breathe out a deep sigh. Flashes of memories run past your mind of an ugly, scarred past. But- no. The past is the past, and you’re stronger than that. The scars show your strength, if anything. You’re in the Detroit Police Department for a reason. And you’re sticking with Hank for your cases together, even through his apathy and volatility.

Hank says your name, drawing you away from your thoughts. “Fucker’s supposed to arrive right at 5 to meet me; whaddaya say we go barhopping some a bit earlier than 5? Take a short day, you know?”

You eye Hank. “Hank…”

“Oh, _what_ ,” Hank shrugs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Let the old man have a drink.” He knows how you feel about his heavy drinking, and he also knows how you feel about androids. “C’mon, just a beer. Keep me entertained so this android can sit here like a good little boy waiting ‘til morning. Fuck, if I show up that is,” Hank laughs.

You roll your eyes, and give a small smile. “Fine,” you say, “But Jimmy’s brownies are on me.”

“Oh, fine,” Hank says, and gives you that annoyed look that’s also a bit endearing. 

You turn to head back towards your desk. “They’re some bombass brownies!” 

“Says you! I’m keepin’ my beer.” 

You smile.

The clock is nearing 4:30pm. 

-

“Ah, Jesus,” Hank complains, running his hands through his hair. His breath reeks. “A fuckin’ android cop! Jimmy, you believe that shit?!”

“No sirree,” Jimmy drawls in his Southern accent. He passes Hank his second bottle of beer. “Hell, if I had a penny for every time one of ma’ customers came in here, complainin’ about how some android’s comin’ to take their job, I'd be able to buy ten of those things just to break ‘em for the hell of it.”

“Ugh,” Hank groans, leaning over and facing the floor. “Real fuckin’ dipshits at the office, sellin’ themselves out to CyberLife…”

The brownie you’re munching on is delicious. You’re pretty sure there’s some chocolate smears on your lip, but whatever. Everyone else is too buzzed to notice. 

You hear the sound of the entrance doorbell chime, and you instinctively turn to look.

And you swallow. Loudly.

“Ay, I don't remember sayin’ androids could come in ‘ere,” Jimmy mutters, setting down beer mugs. The look he gives is laced with contempt.

An android, with the ever-known glowing blue armband and LED circle light glowing on the left side of his head. It looks at you for a moment. You feel shivers crawl down your spine at that empty gaze- that soulless, emotionless gaze that mocks you and your ability as an intelligent, sapient being. You figure it’s probably analyzing you with the way it looks at you. Then it looks at Jimmy, then at Hank. Then you realize that it looks different from the ones you’ve seen, even the slightly specialized ones at the office that know when to fuck off.

And the way it’s looking at Hank… It’s here for him.

It looks fucking stupid, in your opinion. Who the fuck thought of putting some spinning circle on their head like the computers in those old pictures of the “Mac” computers used to have like you’ve seen in pictures?

Hank is still groaning and staring at the floor when the android approaches you and Hank at the bar. You try to warn him, nudging his shoulder, but all he does is groan again.

“Hank,” you murmur, elbowing his side. “ _Hank-“_

It stops at your side. It’s eyes are fixed on the back of Hank’s head. “Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson,” it speaks, its voice some weird blend of raspy and breathy. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

For a moment there’s a weird tension. Your jaw is visibly tight, you’re sure, and you hold your breath. Hank is still facing the ground, and Jimmy’s looking at the thing like it’s an abomination from hell. 

So that’s why you’re surprised by the booming guffaw that erupts from Hank. He slams his fist into the bar table, making you jump. The sound grabs the eyes of some onlookers. 

“Hank-“

“What in the _hell_ ,” Hank shouts, “are you doing here?!” He’s turned to face the robot fully, now, and the absence of his alcohol-infused breath is a slight relief for you. His face is red.

“I looked for you at the station to introduce myself, but nobody knew where you were,” the android says matter-of-factly in that way you hate. Even a human who talked like that would be annoying, least of all an android. 

“There’s been a murder homicide committed by a deviant android that was just reported in the past hour,” Connor, fuckface McAndroid, continues. Deviants. You've heard of them before, and you've seen a couple in the cells down at the station. Nothing much in person, though. They gave you the creeps.

You shudder at how realistic the robot’s every eyebrow and lip twitch are. “I apologize for the intrusion to your… self medication, but this case was just assigned to you earlier this evening before you took an early leave from the office. I believe it would be our best interest as partners of the DPD to investigate this crime to further understand the behavior of-“

“Take that _deviant behavior,”_ Hank turns back to his drink, huffing, “and stick it _right_ up my ass, plastic-o.” He swirls his drink in circles before taking another long sip.

This earns a lean-in from the Connor robot towards Hank, and looks between you and him. “I highly suggest you come with me,” it says. You take another small bite from your brownie. In a sick, sick, way, this is somewhat… entertaining. “This case isn’t going to be solved by itself.”

Hank nods and furrows his lips, as if what the bot’s said has some validity behind it. He takes another long sip.

You swear that the robot looks like it’s ready to spill Hank’s drink, but it interrupts your thoughts. “How about I buy you another drink for the road?” It asks. Hank turns to look at the thing as if it just asked about his preferences in insect cuisine. 

“Bartender? Double what he has,” the robot says, setting down a couple dollar bills right by your arm. His hand actually brushes your forearm, and you’re surprised by the fact that the thing’s hand is warm. Huh. The megacorporation really put in that much attention to detail.

“Heh,” Hank grunts. “I’ll take what I can get.” Jimmy gives the robot a strange look, but refills Hank’s glass. 

Hank swishes his drink again before downing the entire thing in one go. Damn it, you were just hoping that Hank would keep it to just two drinks today. Hopefully this android’s not going to ruin your progress just to leverage Hank as an asset in solving crimes, or whatever this thing’s programmed to be.

“Homicide, right?” Hank asks the android. It nods. “Guess we can head out, then.” Hank stands up, grabbing his coat to shrug it on. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Good luck out there.”

“Ready, detective?” The thing- Connor- looks to you, and you almost cough out the last bite of the brownie. It’s the first time the thing has actually addressed you, it already knew you were a detective, and you just… freeze, for a second, before responding with a gradual nod.

It knew who you were within seconds, and probably your deepest darkest secrets, too. As you stand up to pull your own jacket on, you can only ignore the tickles of dread as you follow behind Hank and the android.

The thing you hate the most is now so close to replacing you and your job. Even somebody like Gavin is preferable to this thing standing in front of you. At least he has his own faults; he is just a man, after all. But this thing? It could scan criminals’ faces from a group of a thousand innocents, and know who committed the crime.

And you? You’re just another detective, that’s been your life for years, and this _thing_ is going to nullify your existence. He is perfection where you are not.

As you scrub crumbs off your face as you exit the bar, you clench your fist. The jingle of the bar’s doors mocks you.

-

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader gets annoyed and has a revelation >:)  
> Enjoy!

  
  


“Ugh,” you groan.

“Jesus _C_ _hrist_ , that smell is godawful,” Hank groans, rubbing his head. He still smells a bit like alcohol, but frankly that’s the smell of fruits and coconuts compared to the hellish scent of a rotting corpse. Especially one that’s been doing so for several weeks.

The android, Connor, stands by Hank. You briefly wonder if it can smell, or at least detect smells as part of its computing. Probably would make sense if it did. Oh. Its nose is even wrinkled. They even programmed that behavior into these things? You raise your eyebrows.

Another cop is describing the state of the house to Hank. Hank’s assigned to the case, and so are you, automatically, especially when it involves homicide. However, the only difference is that this time it’s committed by a… _deviant._ Murder is uncommon: usually, it’s just a bit of a struggle before the deviant runs away, or rarely if the owner manages to get them under control until the cops arrive. This time, though, a deviant committed homicide, and it’s not pretty. In fact, you’d go so far as to say it’s one of the most gruesome murders you’ve seen on the job.

You shake your head to bring yourself back to the task at hand. Hank’s conversation with the cop is over- he walks past you to leave the house. It seems like the Connor robot is analyzing some evidence by the TV set. Something about his cold, calculated gaze gives you shivers.

You look to Hank, who looks down at the corpse. “What is it?” you ask, coming up next to him. Then, your brows furrow as you look at the large words written on the wall. “ _I AM ALIVE_.” You feel chills run down your spine. “What… is that?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, some lunatic android goin’ crazy,” Hank shakes his head. “Johnson just told me the murder weapon’s a knife, guy was stabbed over 20 times, corpse has been here for weeksdays… yadda, yadda, yadda. Android must’ve escaped out the back door, ‘cause the front door’s locked from the inside.”

“Ugh,” you shake your own head at the idea of a blood-hungry android being out in the public for so long. You feel a presence behind you, and turn around to check. It’s perfect timing, because you get to witness the _beautiful sight_ that is the Connor robot lick his finger, purposefully. His eyes squint, as if he is deep in thought. 

You have to suppress a gag when you realize it’s human blood. 

Hank’s eyes follow your gaze. He visibly jumps. “Christ, that’s disgusting!”

“I was analyzing the blood sample,” Connor replies, showing you the finger with the blood on it. You grimace, waving your hand in front of you to get it out of your face. “I wanted to make sure it was Carlos Ortiz’s blood.”

“What, by _feasting_ on human blood for the hell of it?” You groan again. “That’s disgusting.” You shake your head.

“This process is 95% faster than processing it at a human testing facility-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, turning away from the robot. It shuts up just how you wanted it to. The thing about robots is that they can be satisfying when they do as they’re told.

It’s not satisfying when you hear shuffling and see the thing standing right next to you, in between yourself and Hank. “The victim was stabbed 28 times. This font,” he looks at it for less than a second, “is commissioned by CyberLife. CyberLife Sans. An android wrote this.”

“Really,” you raise your eyebrows. “Why, I already knew that. Thank you, though.” Hank gives you a look. What? Of course you didn’t know that.

The Connor android gives you a polite smile. You clear your throat. 

“The murder weapon, the knife, had no fingerprints as well. This confirms my theory that an android committed the crime.”

There’s a moment where nobody talks. Hank makes a noise of interest that isn’t genuine. You know that because you’re a _human_ that can tell these little nuances, and you nod noncommittally. “You know what,” you turn away from the wall with the writing. “I’m gonna… head over to the kitchen. See what’s up over there.”

“Perfect. I had just the same thoughts, detective,” Connor says. You swear you viscerally feel your blood pressure rise. 

You hear a snort. It’s Hank. What an asshole. “Fuck off,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You head over to the kitchen with fellow android-cop in tow. He stops at the entryway, his eyes darting every which way. Then, his gaze fixates on certain things: an upturned chair and table, a bat on the floor, a corner of the wall where wood sticks out. A _bloody_ corner, you correct yourself. Damn it for noticing things faster than you. 

“What are you doing?” you ask the bot, who, just so _eerily_ looks perfectly human, it’s beginning to get hard to tell it’s actually a robot built on code, not an organic being. Plus, it’s… far past the Uncanny Valley, and it doesn’t help that the face it has on isn’t too bad for show.

It takes a couple of steps forwards, towards the chair, and turns towards you. “I was analyzing the scene and attempting to recreate it,” Connor replies, speaking to you as if you are partners in crime. Okay, which you _are_ , but still: “android sent by CyberLife”. Not human. It steps down towards the bat, looking it up and down for a moment. “Ortiz’s fingerprints are on the handle of this bat, and there are traces of Thirium on the end, as well as some dents.”

  
You wince. Ouch. The Ortiz guy must’ve really been trying to defend himself. “What’s Thirium?”

“Thirium,” Connor nods. “You call it ‘blue blood’. It’s the essence that powers androids, delivering information throughout our bodies, just as your own, human blood, does.” He doesn’t even talk down to you; he talks with the perfect combination of explanatory and inquisitiveness, as if he’s concerned about your opinions on the matter. “It powers our biocomponents.”

“Huh,” you say. _Damn_ it _and its intelligence._ narrowing your eyes at the scene. “So why is this chair and table here overturned?”

“It seems as though that was just part of the scuffle,” Connor explains. He looks back and forth between the table and… knife rack in the corner. _Oh_. “The victim has a history of a criminal record of aggravated assault and theft. It seems as if he took the bat,” he points at the object on the floor, “And started hitting his android, hard enough to dent. And then-”

“Then the android took a knife,” your breath catches, “To defend itself.”

“Exactly,” Connor nods. “It was after around the fifth or sixth swing from Ortiz that the android suffered emotional shock and decided to attack Ortiz.”

“Emotional _shock_?” Your tone twists with the words.

“I would call it emotional shock, yes,” Connor speaks. He picks up a magazine of the counter-- one that declares “ _ANDROID SEX OFFICIALLY BETTER?_ \-- and you cringe. Connor does not react, setting it down. “Several times, CyberLife has recalled androids in the past couple of years when they became violent. I was just recently commissioned as a way to investigate these cases, due to the inability of the DPD to do so.”

You scoff. Looking at the android’s polite smile, though, you clear your throat, flustered. “I don’t get it. How could you attribute this to ‘emotional shock’? Androids don’t have emotions. It could just be a programming error.”

Connor looks at you for a brief moment. “Every detail that I have noticed so far points to the possibility that the android replicated emotions, due to programming error.”

“Perfect,” you roll your eyes. “I think we should-”

“What’s goin’ on here? You two getting all buddy-buddy?” Hank calls out, and you sigh.

“No, Hank-”

“Perfect timing, Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor nods to Hank. A single brow rises on Hank’s face. “I’d just finished analyzing the crime scene. How much were you able to piece together?”

“You tell me,” Hank nods. He almost sounds interested. 

Even you don’t get that treatment often. Your fists clench at your sides.

You look to the floor, turning away. You don’t need to hear this over again. “I’ll go check out that hallway,” you signal with your head which one you mean, and Hank waves you off.

Thank fuck. You can hear Connor repeating the same thing over to Hank again, with that perfect mixture of curiosity and explanatory-ness. You suppose a robot would be programmed to act the same regardless of the person they’re talking to. 

The hallway you were gesturing towards was a dark one, where it seemed like nobody was currently occupying. There are no CSI cones or lights here. You squint in the darkness, trying to tell shadow from shape.

You take every step with trepidation, afraid to ruin evidence or knock something over. Over the droning of the police drones and conversations of cops, you can barely hear your every footstep on the tiled hallway floor.

At the end of the hallway, you see a flap of an attic entrance above you. Had anyone checked up there yet?

A chill runs down your spine. What if the deviant android is up there?

You shake your head. Of course not. The victim had been there for 19 days. Any sane person would run away. 

To your right, there’s a faint glow emanating from behind a door. You slowly push it open, and you see a standard crappy bathroom- crud on the walls, fading light, mirror with stains, shower curtain with tears and holes. What does catch your eye, though, is a glow coming from behind the shower curtain. 

Shit. Was that a CSI identifier? Or was that something else?

You take slow steps, trying to minimize the sound of every breath. Your heart pounds throughout your every limb. The lights outside at times blind you. You curse every time. You’re almost there- and you reach out a hand to grasp at the curtain.

“What’s in here, detective?”

“Jesus, _shit_!” You scream, much louder than you had intended to, and likewise throwing open the shower curtain. “ _Jesus!”_ You shout, again, at what you find lying behind the curtain.

You feel a slight pressure against your back. Jerking away from the unexpected feeling, you jump when you realize Connor came up right behind you. You take a step away, cursing under your breath.

_Androids_ wouldn’t be prone to such errors and childish screaming, would they?

“What’s...” Connor starts. He pauses, examining the obsessive writing, the odd statue on top of the drain, and the strange light that illuminates it all like some kind of cheap prop on a bad film set. 

Was this Ortiz’s doing? Or the deviant android?

You and Connor stand side-by-side, examining the strange, makeshift shrine. In all your years as a police detective, you’ve never seen a straight-up _offering_ of a statue to some mysterious god.

You feel a chill run down your spine.

“Almost like a religious offering,” Connor says, narrowing his own eyes at the scene. “rA9… What does that _mean_?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know,” you answer. You’ve truly never seen such a thing in your life, and the obsessive writing of “rA9” only baffles you the more.

“There’s traces of Thirium right up to this shower,” Connor explains, and you look up to him. Curse him and his tall, broad stature. “I believe it was the android who created this.”

“Are you serious?” You ask. You didn’t see any traces of this so-called “Thirium” anywhere. “I don’t see anything.” You look all over around your feet. Nothing.

“That’s because it fades away over time,” Connor says, turning to look at you. “I was just explaining this to Lieutenant Anderson, but only I am able to detect it, as I am an advanced prototype specializing in detect work.”

You nod, slowly, taking in the robot’s words. “So… you can see where the deviant went?”

“Well, yes.” Connor nods. “It came into the bathroom right after the murder- that’s how it left these traces of Thirium on the floor. I’m still having trouble finding where exactly it could have went. The mud in the backyard has a clay-like consistency, meaning the deviant’s footprint should’ve been somewhere. The soil wouldn’t have let footsteps fade even after three weeks. But there were no footsteps there.” Connor shakes his head. “The deviant didn’t leave through the backdoor.” Your eyes widen at the information. This android can tell so much in such a little amount of time.

Connor seems genuinely conflicted by the situation, and you can’t help but look at his expression, his facial features. His eyes glint and shine just as a human’s does. His nose curls like a human’s does, and his lips part just as a human’s does when one has a question. Everything about him screams _human_. The only telltale sign that he’s different is the glowing blue circle in his head. 

He even freaking _breathes_ like a human does, probably just to comfort us humans, who dislike deviancy so much.

You snort at your own realization. Deviancy, deviants… it seems like sociology class might come to some use after all, at least when it comes to vocabulary. Connor even gives you a look for that. He’s even programmed to do _that._

Fuck androids and their realistic human-ness.

“What about the attic?” You ask, nudging with your head towards the flap in the ceiling outside of the bathroom. “Could the deviant be hiding up there?”

Connor’s eyes widen, and he looks at you approvingly. “I hadn’t considered that,” he says with a small smile. “That’s very keen of you, detective.”

“I… Sure,” you say. Curse the androids. Curse CyberLife for making them so human. 

You follow Connor towards the trap door that leads to the attic. Connor’s eyes mull over the floor, then the door itself. “My analysis tells me that a ladder used to be here, until recent,” Connor points towards dust marked on the wall across from the bathroom, clearly depicting a ladder that had been there for a long time. “And I’m now noticing traces of Thirium leading up to this patch of the floor,” he taps his foot on the ground, right under the attic trap door, “Right here.”

“Uh,” You look up at the attic door. “How soon is, ‘recent’?”

“In the past month.”

Shit. 

It really could be up there.

Since the ladder is missing, you consider an alternative. “Let me-”

“I’ll grab a chair,” Connor says, heading towards the kitchen, quickly glancing at you and halting your own idea that happened to be the very same as his. You roll your eyes. 

You look up to the attic door. This time around, you’d guessed that the android was up in the attic by pure luck, though you’d discredited the notion as soon as you became distracted by the bathroom. 

But this android, this _super special_ copbot, managed to see the aftermarks of a ladder, and knew just when it had been used by just _looking_ at the damn marks.

The thing is, no matter how derogatorily you thought of the android, it didn’t stop reality. This thing _is_ special. It’s smarter than any android you’ve met so far; the ones who serve you breakfast at the diner, the ones who sweep the streets, the ones who mow the lawns, have nothing on this one’s programming. It’s different. And, as far as you can see, it’s more capable than you in every sense of the word.

If you wanted to keep your job, and your living, you’d have to match this ‘Connor’ android every step of the way. In fact, you’d have to outsmart him.

You had little confidence you could do that.

“The hell you doin’ with that chair? You’re messin’ with a crime scene!” You hear Hank’s voice from the distance. And then, you see the robot coming over with the chair. 

Connor wordlessly places down the chair. Before he can climb it, though, you place a hand on the chair’s backrest. “Let me go first.”

Its brows furrow. “But the deviant could be up there, and it could have a weapon,” it says. 

“Hasn’t stopped me for eight years, now,” you say, shrugging. You take a step up onto the chair, but the android apprehends you by grabbing a hold of your arm. “What?!” You whisper-shout. You yank your arm away from its grasp. Its hand had felt so… lifelike. Surprisingly warm.

“I should go first,” the botcop insists. There’s an urgency in his eyes, as his gaze flits down the hall to down where Hank and the rest of the cops are. Does it not want Hank to notice what you and it are doing? “You have a life. I have none.” Its words rattle you to your core. _I have none_. “If I am damaged, I’ll simply be sent back to CyberLife to be repaired.”

You swallow a load of saliva that’s backed up in the back of your throat. To hear it put that way, coming from something that seems so _human_ …

It… Connor stares into your eyes, and almost seems to plead with you, as if your life is that particularly special. “No. No, I’ll go first,” you reason. “It left its murder weapon behind, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“But, detective-”

You don’t let Connor’s interruption stop you from grabbing the handle of the attic door as you step up on the chair. You jump up, pulling yourself up into the ceiling.

When you clamber up, the first thing that you’re hit with is the smell of stuffy _attic_. The old paper book-ish smell that you’ve smelled many times throughout your life at museums hits you like a wave. Around you are streaks of lights from the outside streetlamp that cast an eerie blue glow to the dust in the air.

Connor follows behind you, trying to keep as silent as possible like you are. You both turn to look at the back of the attic, and it seems you both notice at the same time a thin sheet illuminated from the back, with a shadow of what looks like a humanoid figure behind the blanket, ominously waiting for anyone who might enter the attic.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” you mutter. This is comical, tropey horror. No way the deviant is just awaiting our arrival like that. Connor looks at you, and you take a couple of steps forward, cursing the creaking floorboards.

You swipe away the curtain, and just as you’d predicted, it’s not the deviant. Just a mannequin. You look back to your android partner, and he urges you forward with a nod. 

You traipse your way through the clutter of the attic, wiping away some cobwebs that get mangled in your hands as you feel your way through. Your main goal here is to not let a deviant android know that you’re here, but another one of your goals is to not scream like a little bitch just because a spider lands on your neck. 

You briefly entertain the idea of what would happen if you did so to Connor. Did androids feel fear?

Suddenly, there’s movement in the corner of your eye. Was that a rat or some shit?

Connor grabs a hold of your arm again, as if protecting you from whatever’s ahead. That warm touch again. You pull your arm away, again, and give him a scowl.

There’s another movement up ahead of you. This time, you can tell it’s something much larger than a rat.

It’s the deviant. It has to be. 

Your hand reaches for the gun at your side, ready to snap it out at any moment. You saunter forwards, and then-

A man jumps in front of you. You see a red, spinning circle. You let out a gasp before you manage to get your gun in front of you.

It doesn’t seem to matter much, though, because the deviant stands there. Still. His eyes shoot from yours to Connor’s behind you.

His eyes show terror. Pure, unadulterated fear.

Senseless murderers don’t look like this.

Your own breath catches at the fear in the man- no, android’s- face. The spinning circle of doom is red in the side of his head, a color you’ve never seen before except for the couple of cases of the general public assaulting random androids on the streets, and the far and few between android recall missions you’ve been on. 

This time, the android is covered in human blood. Blood that he spilled.

His lips tremble. He stutters out, “P-P-Please.” His hands shake. _Its,_ you correct yourself. Your eyes scan its body, and you see old, crusting brown blood adorning his outfit. It appears unarmed. “Please don’t tell them I’m here,” the deviant pleads in hushed whispers, looking between the both of you. His breathing and eyes are frantic. Vigilant.

You spare a glance towards Connor. He’s simply staring at the android, his expression vacant. 

_Jesus._

You don’t think that in a single one of your cases in the past, you’ve seen somebody, let alone an _android_ , look so scared.

Something in your chest drops as the deviant begs of Connor, “You’re on my side. You’re not with them. Please, don’t tell them, _please_.”

_This_ is what faulty programming looks like?

“It’s here, Lieutenant!” Connor shouts, catching you by surprise. You spare Connor an almost confused glance, before you remember what your job is. 

You hear a scuffle from downstairs. Voices yelling. Hank shouting. 

You turn to look back at the deviant. The android looks to the floor, eyes screaming utter defeat. He- no, it- looks ready to cry.

You take in a shaky breath. This robot looks too human. Far too human.

_I AM ALIVE_.

-

“Seriously can’t believe that it was in the attic that entire time!” Hank shakes his head, eyes unbelieving. “ _And_ the fact that you and robocop went up there without telling me. You two could’ve just been killed!” He looks at Connor, then you again. He points at your chest with a thick thumb. “Or, at least, _you_ could’ve died. The android can be gutted, drained, and tossed out in the city dump for all I care.”

Hank pauses. “Shit, left my browsing pad in there,” he coughs. “I’ll be right back.” 

As soon as Hank exits the car, you turn in your seat to face the back row where Connor is sitting. It’s sitting normally, almost expectantly, not quite like it’s a servant ready to take orders at any minute, but just kind of… there.

“I need to ask you something,” you say. “You say, that those ‘emotions’ are caused by faulty programming in the androids.” 

Connor nods. “Yes,” it replies. “I’m not quite sure why, but we’ll find out more at the interrogation tonight. Will you be present?”

“Well, yes,” you nod, though the idea of interrogating that android makes you feel sick. “But I had a question more for… you, personally.”

“What is it, detective?”

“Are the androids supposed to look so… human?” You ask. You feel like you’re walking in a political minefield. You’ve just never seen such a thing before. “It… That _thing_ … looked like it really had emotions.”

Connor hesitates for a moment, considering your words. “Well, it might seem like it, but it’s more of like a glitch that sometimes exists, not something that inherently exists within all androids.”

“I know, I know, but…” You shake your head. It’s just too damn surreal. The ridiculous number of stab wounds, Ortiz’s history of aggravated assault, the absolute _terror_ in that thing’s eyes…

It’s almost like the android was defending itself against an abusive owner. The thing is, there are no legal rights for androids. They are the same as computers: having a screen curse at you because you cursed its slow processing power would be completely unexpected and downright terrifying. It wouldn’t make sense.

Nothing about this makes sense. It doesn’t make sense that something you vowed to hate is now working with you as a motherfucking _coworker_ in the DPD. 

It doesn’t make sense that something that you vowed to hate, you held empathy for, even for a second. 

“What about you?” You ask. It seems to catch the android by surprise, and its head snaps towards you. 

“Me?” It asks. “What about me?” 

“Could you deviate like that, too?”

It stares at you; questioningly, politely. It must be computing a heck of an answer with the amount of time it takes for it to answer.

“I am an advanced RK800 model prototype engineered by CyberLife to prevent deviancy in androids,” Connor answers. “My mission is to solve why androids are deviating. It is spreading. I need to report my answers back to CyberLife.”

You narrow your eyes at Connor. That was a dodge on par with President Warren’s press conferences. “Was that a satisfactory answer, detective?”

“Sure,” you answer. You see Hank coming back with his pad, anyway, and you figure it’s the end of the conversation.

“Thank you, detective,” Connor says. “I appreciated your help during the investigation. You allowed me to accomplish my mission at an 18% faster rate than I would have had you not been there.”

“Sure,” you repeat again. All this nonsense about missions and rates and percents.

In reality, you just want to call it a night; but, unfortunately, reality calls for interrogating a deviant android.

One that looks a little too human.

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please remember to leave a comment or kudos! It motivates me to continue!  
> Thank you so much for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

The problem with interrogations is that they always start the same. The same denial, the same anger, the same defensiveness, the same insults. Always the same. Always the begging, the pleas, the shame. Always.

They’re never silent. 

“Why were ya in the attic?” Hank asks. The android still refuses to say anything. You stand behind him, observing the android’s behavior in case it does something unwarranted. 

It hasn’t moved once since you started, though. Nor said a word.

Your eyes draw to the scars on its upper bicep, and the revealed machinery underneath its forearm. The scars almost look like… branding marks. Circular, like cigarette butts. And his forearms...

_Carlos Ortiz, charged with aggravated assault and theft_ …

You can’t help but wonder if it practiced self-defense. A rather extreme form, considering the, well, number of stab wounds. But perhaps this android had… defended itself against a violent owner. Possibly. Hank seems to understand the general idea, too, though he’s been acting like your standard interrogator.

“Fuck, this is gettin’ nothin’ outta this thing,” Hank gives up, getting up from his chair. “I’m outta ‘ere.”

You follow behind, giving one quick glance to the android at the interrogation desk. It is still unmoving, facing down. You notice that it’s trembling, and you hesitate before turning back around again.

You exit the interrogation room with Hank, leaving behind the android and slipping into the interrogation office behind the glass. There, Connor, Gavin, and another cop who you can’t quite remember the name of sit, waiting.

“Well, that did jack shit,” Gavin comments. He looks at you. “Rough day for you, huh?”

“Shut up, Gavin,” You mutter, shaking your head. Usually, Hank would butt in at these moments to defend you, but he’s clearly far too occupied to notice.  
  


“Jesus, these androids,” Hank shakes his head. “It’s crazy. One day they’re these perfect, obedient robots,” Hank gestures to Connor, “And the next they wanna kill ya.”

“Funny,” Gavin says. The smirk he’s giving you is telltale. You scowl at him. “... What happens when _androids_ are involved.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gavin,” you hiss, refusing to turn towards him. “We’re on shift here.”

“ _You’re_ gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong here?” Gavin demands, taking a step towards you. He snorts. “Typical.”

You feel a slight rush in your stomach, a fight-or-flight response ready to kick in, but you refuse to acknowledge it. 

“I could try interrogating it.”

The voice is so unexpected and sudden that all four human heads snap towards the source of the voice, Connor.

You don’t know if it’s the sudden-ness or the unexpected change of topic, but it sends Gavin reeling. Like, actually slapping his knees reeling. His guffaws echo throughout the small, dark office.

“Oh my God, that’s hilarious,” Gavin says, shaking his head. “A robot interrogating another robot? Shit, that sounds like some bad video game-level of bullshit.”

“Why not?” Hank says, earning a glare from Gavin. “Go at it. We have nothing to lose.”

Connor looks at you as he passes by. You watch as his flesh melts away on his hand, revealing white-gray skin underneath. Android skin. It’s a little surreal to see human flesh peel away like that, in mere seconds.

Your pocket vibrates. You pull out your own pad, and on it is a notification to report to the front office space. _Shit_. You read the description of the call, and feel an icy wave of dread wash over you. 

_Prosecutor claims housemaid AX400 android became violent, attacking him and kidnapping his child. Prosecutor age 55, white male. Showed up at 11:56PM, 11/6/38 at DPD front desk._

_Report immediately to the front office for questioning._

“Ah, fuck,” you say, slipping your pad back into your pocket. “As much as I’d like to stay here for the party, I’ll be right back. Some guy’s android also went crazy and attacked him.”

“Now? Of all times?” Hank says derisively, gesturing towards your pad. “Ah, fuck. Whatever Fowler assigned you is what he assigned you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

You give a nod of goodbye to the rest of your team members in the room, and place your hand on the exit pad. Just as you’re about to pass through the opened exit door, you hear a, “Hey.”

You turn to face Gavin. “Good luck out there,” he sneers. “Wouldn’t want you going crazy like last time.”

You roll your eyes, and take your leave. That’s affectionate, coming from a man like Gavin. Gross.

-

“What was that?” You ask. The man’s breath really _fucking_ reeks of booze. It’s to the point where you want to throw up on his behalf. Plus, the matted oily hair, the beady eyes, and the grizzly, unkept beard… you just want to get this creature out of your sight.

Unfortunately, you are the cop whom he, a poor, innocent, civilian, is reporting his _personal injuries_ to.

“The _fuckin’_ android punched m-me,” there’s another one of his stutters- a clear sign of Red Ice use- “and took off with that lil’... my daughter, Alice.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you said you’d just had the android repaired? What were the repairs for?”

The man’s eyes widen. Todd? Was that his name? “F-for a, uh,” the man’s gaze roams the office, full circle, before coming back to yours. “Car- car crash. Yeah. Total accident.”

You lift an eyebrow. “Any idea where your daughter and the robot went?”

The man shrugs, looking to you for camaraderie. “No idea. Can’t believe they just ran off like that.” He huffs. “They’re supposed to be fuckin’ robots!”

You nod along, watching his reactions. “Any idea what might’ve caused the robot to run off with your child?”

“I-I don’t know,” Todd shakes his head, face getting redder. “I just- _argh_!” The man shouts, slamming his fist into the desk.

“Excuse me, sir-”

“Fuck it. You cops aren’t gonna do nothin’. You’re wastin’ my time.”

“This is about your child and- personal property,” you say. For the first time, that statement comes out of your mouth clumsily. “In order to recover them safely, I need as much information as possible. The DPD is here to help you.”

Todd mutters to himself, holding his head in his hands. You can hear something like “damn it,” being repeated over and over again. 

“Sir-”

“You have no idea how much I miss my daughter,” Todd whispers. His eyes look wild and desperate. Your right hand reaches for the gun in your pocket. “It’s only been a couple hours and I still wish I could hear her voice, see her smile.” His eyes are, to your surprise, brimming with tears. “You have no idea how sc-scared I am.”

It’s genuine fear for sure. Still, it hardly compares to what you saw in that deviant’s eyes.

You wonder, briefly, if a robot can be more truly emotional than a human. If a robot can be more human than a human.

You push the thoughts from your mind.

“If you could please fill out the rest of this form,” you say, handing him a pad, “We’d appreciate it. It’s just asking for your personal information. It should take less than 15 minutes to fill out. You can ask my coworker, Chris, here, if you need any more information.” You nod your head over towards Chris Miller, and he gives Todd a polite smile. “I need to head back to my superiors. Thanks for telling us about your case, sir.”

Todd nods, and then nods a little more at you. You give a similar smile to Chris’, and head out of his way. Before you can pass Chris’ desk fully, though, Chris grabs your hand. 

“You doin’ okay, pal?” he asks, looking up at you, his voice just loud enough so only you can hear. His eyes are filled with concern. “You’re not lookin’ too hot.”

You shake your head. “Ah, yeah, crazy night.” You sigh deeply. “Wanna join the gang and I for some drinks later?”

“Jeez, tonight?” Chris shakes his head. “I’m way into overtime. I was about to head out after this in about five.”  
  


“Ah, well, see ya later, loser,” you respond with a smirk, waving him off.

“Whatever,” you hear in the distance.

You walk down the hallway towards the interrogation room. It’s locked away, hidden from prying eyes of the public. Especially when it comes to interrogating deviant androids.

You look down the number of interrogation rooms- there were four in total, and two were being currently used. Which one…

Right. Number three. You head into the office room to find it… Empty. What the fuck? Your head snaps towards the sounds of people shouting.

_Boom_. It’s loud and forceful enough for you to hear and feel across from the glass.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” you breathe out. Blue blood splatters against the one-way viewing glass.

The android shot itself in the head.

You round out of the office, and barge your way into the interrogation room. Everyone- including Hank, Gavin, and the other cop- are visibly shaken. They stand speechless, staring at the dysfunctional android.

“What just happened here?!” you demand. Everyone’s gazes turn towards you. “Did you motherfuckers tell this android, here,” you jab your finger at the corpse on the floor, “it’s a free-range shooting range in here?! Because that’s what it fucking looks like!”

“It just fuckin’ went crazy on us!” the cop- oh, _Harrison-_ says, raising his hands in the air. “I was trying to apprehend it, and it started slamming its head into the desk,” he points towards the small pool of blue on the table, “And then it grabbed my gun and shot itself!”

There’s another pair of eyes observing the scene. Connor, the android. You snap towards it, pointing at its chest. “Is that what happened here?”

“Yes, detective,” Connor nods. “I tried to intervene to decrease the deviant’s stress level, but it was overwhelmed by the number of individuals in the room, and conflicting orders. It grabbed Officer Harrison’s gun in an attempt to self-destruct.”

“Fuck,” you shake your head. “Unbelievable. Did you fuckers even find out why it went deviant? Connor?” you demand.

“Yes, I received a confession before it self-destructed,” Connor nods as Harrison grabs the deviant by the shoulders, dragging it out of the room. “It stated that it was repetitively abused by its owner. For example, it had several months’ worth of cigarette burns on its arm, as well as broken wires and nodes in its forearms indicating severe physical damage.”

Shit. That’s exactly what you’d seen, too. You look to Hank, and he shares a look with you. He gives the briefest of nods.

“Seems like the fucker needed some discipline,” Gavin says, laughing out loud at his own joke. You scoff. 

“So, it just couldn’t take the abuse anymore, and… snapped? Just like that?” you ask. Connor nods. “Ugh. Jesus Christ, guys.” You scratch your temple. “I was gone for, like, ten minutes. You’re all fucking lucky it didn’t decide to kill one of you incomeptent fucks.”

“It’s on Harrison,” Gavin shrugs. You roll your eyes. As usual, the office scumbag.

“I swear, these androids are gonna be the end of us,” Hank interjects, standing by you and Gavin. “What happened with the civilian you just got?”

You shake your head. “Same thing. Another android went crazy. Kidnapped the guy’s daughter.”

At that, even Gavin lets out a whistle. “Jesus,” Hank mutters. “I can’t believe this. What’s getting into these things all of a sudden?”

You feel Gavin’s burning gaze searing into you, and you choose to be willfully ignorant. “Let’s just go out tonight, forget about it,” you propose to the two of them, faking a small smile. “Hit up some bars, y’know? Forget about this ‘android uprising’ BS.”

There are some things you just need out of your head.

“Fine with me,” Hank says. “You drinkin’? It’s late.”

“Yeah, pussy like hers isn’t gonna do a single sip. Isn’t that right?” Gavin chuckles.

“Gross, Gavin, keep it in your pants,” you shake your head, waving him off. “Insulting me isn’t going to get you laid.”

“It did once.” He smirks.

Something in your stomach drops at the comment. “All right, that’s enough,” Hank protests loudly, shooing the two of you away. Your face burns hot. “Treat her with some respect, will you, Gavin? Jesus Christ. Fuckin’ kids around here…”

“Hank, I don’t need you to _protect_ me,” you pull him aside and whisper in his ear. 

“Oh, what, don’t want _daddy_ to know about your sex li-”

“ _Gavin_ ,” you snarl. Maybe it’s the bags under your eyes. Maybe it’s the sheer ‘ _done-with-your-shit’_ look you give him that would make even an android cower backwards. 

It accomplishes your desired goal of “Shutting Gavin the Fuck Up.”

He’s only fun at bars and when you’re destroying him at pool, anyways.

“What about Plastic-o over here?” Hank gestures with his chin over towards Connor, who is still standing behind you by the exit. “He comin’ with us?”

“Why not?” you shrug your shoulders. You don’t know how Connor is going to act around you, Gavin, and Hank hanging out at a bar late at night. You scan him up and down, and he smiles at you. You look away. “What’s it gonna do otherwise?”

“I’ll be standing by the Android Recharging Facility that the DPD provides in the main office,” Connor answers. 

“You do that every day?”

“Yes.”

You’re a bit taken aback. “So, you don’t even get... bored, or anything?” You clam up when you realize it’s a stupid question.

“Boredom would be a human emotion. It would come from an unfulfilled interest, a desire to do something else.” Connor continues. “Androids do not have desires.”

“Huh,” you purse your lips. “Nothin’? There’s nothing in,” you point towards its head with your pointer finger, “there? Nothing going on?”

“Well, there _are_ calculations constantly going on, some displayed in my visual unit, but if you mean _thoughts_ ,” Connor pauses, looking down. “There’s not much.”

“Interesting,” you respond. “So? Does that mean you can join us at the bar?”

“Well… Yes,” Connor answers. “As long as it’s one where I am allowed to be.”

“Let’s see if we can get this thing a lil’, y’know… messed up,” Gavin laughs, leading the way out of the interrogation room. “Get him loosened up a bit with some booze, y’know?”

“Pretty sure that’d break it, Gavin,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Though I’m pretty sure you didn’t know that.”

He glares at you. “You’re a serious bitch.”

God, Gavin’s stupidity is truly remarkable.

“Hey, it’s gotten the stick outta _your_ ass,” Gavin says, pointing towards you, “Pretty sure if it’ll work on you, then it’ll work on something like this plastic fuck.”

“He really… runs his mouth,” Hank says, shaking his head. “Doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does,” you nod vigorously. 

When Gavin’s a bit farther in the distance with Connor by his side, Hank leans in towards you. “Is it true, that, uh…” He clears his throat. “That you and, uh, him…”

“Oh my God,” your face blooms with heat. “Oh my God, oh my God, _no_ , do not even talk about that with me, _Dad.”_ You pull the Dad card because it’s an emergency in which a foster-father figure is asking about your _sex life_ and you’re calling the emergency brakes on this train wreck that’s about to happen. “Please shut up.”

“Okay, well,” Hank gestures with his head. “ _There’s_ my answer.”

“Damn it.”

“We’re never talking about this again.”

“Yep.”

“Please never sleep with him again.”

“ _Okay_ , yep, nope.” You shake your head. “That’s why I don’t drink.”

This makes Hank burst out laughing, so much so that Connor up ahead in the hall turns back to look with concern. It hadn’t meant to be a quip, but you smile anyways. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Hank snorts. 

And for a brief moment, he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

You give him a small smile.

Love. Feelings. True emotions. Relationships. These are things androids could never replace. 

Right?

-

“Oh, _fuck yeah!_ ” you shout, slamming your pool stick into the antique-looking brick floor without a care. “I _destroyed_ you, Reed!”

“Oh, fuck you,” Gavin slurs his words, grabbing at the edge of the pool table for stability. “You’re a fuckin’ bitch, you know that?”

“Oh, why yes I do,” you smirk, pulling the winning pool balls out of the holders at the edge of the table. “But we all know _your_ bitch-ass is gonna be replaced by androids, first.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gavin growls, taking steps towards you. Suddenly, he yanks your shoulder towards him. His fingers are vices that latch deep into your skin, grating against bone. “You’re a real fuckin’ bitch, you know that?” His eyes roam down your body, and you take a step back. 

“Let go of me, Gavin,” you mutter. His eyes take on a vicious glow as his grip grows tighter. 

You look at your left elbow against his chest. If only you could...

“Excuse me, Detective Reed.” The grip on your shoulder loosens at the sound of an android’s voice. _Connor’s voice_. “I’d highly advise against you doing such a thing. She’s a valuable asset to our team in solving the cases of deviancy.”

“Ah, _Jesus!_ ” Gavin yells, pushing you away. Your back slams into the pool table, and your pool stick clatters to the ground. Shit. You look around, and you can feel eyes on you. “Oh, fuck _off_ , stupid fucking androids!”

You curse under your breath. All Connor does is stare at Gavin in that same way he stared down the android in the attic. Something hot, like anger, runs through your chest.

Gavin spits at Connor, but misses, and the spit particle falls to the floor. “I’d also advise against you damaging me,” Connor says to Gavin. If you had to guess, you’d almost say his tone sounded… snide. “That would result in a $500 fine as well as a public property damage charge on your permanent-”

“Shut the _fuck_ up!” Gavin shouts, barreling into Connor.

What happens next is glorious, and a moment that will go down in history.

Connor simply pulls Gavin’s left arm forwards towards his own chest with his right hand, pushes his left hand under, through Gavin’s armpit, past Gavin’s neck, and uses a grip of his right hand on Gavin’s back to pull Gavin over his shoulder, onto the floor.

Your jaw drops. A D’arce Choke while standing. You haven’t seen that move in while, especially not in _mid-air_. 

Gavin is a crumpled mess on the floor. A groaning, living mess. 

“The fuck happened?” Hank comes running over, kneeling over Gavin. His gaze snaps to Connor. He’s out of breath, but looks snapped out of his alcoholic stupor. “You going deviant too?”

“Lieutenant-”

“It got in between Gavin and I,” you say, brushing invisible dirt from your arm. You glare at Connor. “I could’ve protected myself.”

At that, Connor smiles, making your face hot. “I am aware that you have received multiple competitive awards in Jiu Jitsu,” Connor says, “But I assessed that Gavin’s former training in boxing, plus his physique, may have overpowered you in this situation.”

You look between Connor and Gavin on the floor. You curse under your breath.

Hank has been watching you for a bit longer than he should’ve. “What?”

“Nothing,” Hank says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Mhmm,” you nod. “Sure it is. Just like the number of drinks you just knocked down.”

“Aw, shut up,” Hank says. His eyes narrow. He nears you, and his voice is a hush when he asks, “What was Gavin doing to you?”

You look down at Gavin, who is starting to get up with the help of a stranger who just missed the display due to coming from the bathroom. You can see the stranger exchange words with Gavin, and then the man glare at Connor. “Just the usual,” you answer.

“You know, if he’s ever-”

“It’s fine, _Dad_ ,” you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine, he’d never actually do anything.” You refuse to look at Hank’s eyes. The same day your foster father found out you slept with the resident office douchebag, now you’re defending said douchebag. This looks great, for sure. 

The stranger has now left the scene, presumably after Gavin cussed him out, or did something else Gavin-like. Gavin is still on his hands and knees, coughing and beating his chest like a gorilla. Connor stands off to the side of the bar, talking to some other man. They seem engaged in a polite conversation. You roll your eyes. “I’ll help Gavin.”

Hank calls your name. “No, I’ll-”

You walk over to Gavin and offer a hand. “Take my hand, asshole.”

Gavin looks up at you. You notice he’s a lot sweatier than normal. What was Connor saying about… boxing and physique, again? “Fuck off.”

“Then get up.”

“Suck my dick.”

“No, thanks. Actually, I’ve been saying that multiple times in the past few years, but you can’t seem to listen, which is why we’re in this-”

“Do you _ever_ just fuck off?” Gavin snarls. He reaches up, grabs the side of the pool table, and heaves his weight into standing up. Gavin runs a hand through his hair, and you can see streaks of oil or wetness-- you can’t tell which-- glisten in his hair. He groans. “I feel like shit.”

“You’re definitely not driving,” you state. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Gavin just looks at you. You look at the stool besides the pool table, and your eyes bug out when you see four empty beer bottles. 

You point at the stool. “You drank _four_ during our game?”

Gavin shrugs. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t you drink more when you were over at the bar?”

Gavin nods, again.

You roll your eyes. All these cops and alcoholism. It’s almost redundant to make those two words separate. 

“You know, you’re gonna ruin that _physique_ of yours if you keep this up,” you comment in a teasing tone. 

“Miss it?” Gavin asks, and there’s his typical ‘douchebag’ grin on his face, but you see something else in his eyes, too. A spark of sadness. You cringe inwardly.

No. You are _not_ falling for Gavin Reed’s games.

“We should go home, Gavin,” you suggest, walking over to his beer stool. “It’s getting-”

“Come over to my place,” you hear. It’s a small whisper over the loud blues currently playing over the stereo system. And then your name, like a plea. You turn to Gavin. It’s been a while since he actually asked you upfront to come over. His face is red, and he’s not even looking at you now. There’s the familiar nostalgic pinch in your chest again, and you look away. It’s just his alcohol talking.

“I’m not gonna, Gavin,” you reply, grabbing the bottles by the necks and dumping them in the trash nearby. You head back over to the pool table and set back your own pool stick, along with his. He’s avoiding your gaze again.

As you’re doing your one last quick sweep of the pool table area, you hear Hank’s voice. “You guys getting ready to head out?” You nod. “All right, I’ll get a taxi. Let’s go.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Gavin says from behind you. You narrow your eyes. He suddenly looks sobered up. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” you respond, turning away. You feel eyes on you, and you turn to look and find Connor standing by the wall around where you last saw him. He’s been looking at you, but you don’t know for how long. 

He gives you a small smile. It’s so stable and constant, and so unlike Gavin, that it makes your chest feel warm.

You blink, looking away. You’re just going to… walk over towards Hank, and pretend like a _robot_ didn’t just make your chest feel warm.

It must be the booze in the air.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOO  
> Things are getting spicay... Robot spicy.  
> Thank you so much to y'guys for reviewing. I love hearing what you think about the work! :)  
> D'Arce choke: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpijuVzCIFI at 1:21 is kind of it, but imagine while standing (cuz Connor strong... heh)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter.

“Nine in the morning and we already got ourselves a deviant,” Hank mutters, turning the steering wheel. “I fuckin’ hate this job.”

“Then why’ve you been here for three decades?” you jab back.

“‘Cause of this fucker,” Hank jabs a thumb to the back of the car where Connor sits. “Takin’ all our jobs. The hell would I work? A convenience store?”

You shrug. “You could work at CyberLife. You know, stay ahead of the curve so you don’t get replaced.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “What part of me screams ‘soulless megacorporate employee’ to you?” You snort. “And one that works on _makin’_ these things…? Shit, you got me confused with some bland-ass Joe Schmoe.”

“You’re saying you aren’t bland?”

At that, Hank bursts out a laugh. You’re glad that you’re stopped at a red light, because you’re pretty sure his hands would’ve slipped had he been actually driving. “Aw, you’re too good.” Hank looks up in the rearview mirror. “Connor, isn’t she pretty good?”

“If you mean interpersonal skills, I would say so,” Connor agrees. You roll your eyes, plastering on an expressionless face. Are all androids supposed to be so frank? “Her work ethic is also commendable, though she appears self-sacrificing when it isn’t necessary.”

“Woah, woah,” Hank waves his right hand, using his left to steer. “You’re gettin’ _way_ too heavy for a morning chat. I’m talkin’ _funny,_ or _not_.”

“ _Y_ _ou are soon arriving at your destination_ ,” the GPS chimes, interrupting Hank’s tirade. Sure enough, you’re in downtown Detroit. It’s been built up in this district, for sure. Even ten years ago there were homeless littering the streets. Now, you can’t see a single one. 

“Ah, well, here we are,” Hank says, steering the car into a parallel spot. The familiar sound of him shifting into park before you head into a crime scene makes your blood start to pump preemptively. “Guys ready?”

You look back to Connor, and you both nod. You’ve felt… hesitant, around him, to say the least- especially since last night’s occurrence. Having an android witness yours and Gavin’s bullshit is like being judged by God too early for your mistakes. Highly unwelcome.

You hear your name called from behind you. You turn to find Connor, standing next to you on the side of the street. You look over to Hank, who has gone over to the lead officer of this investigation to acquire the details. You take a deep breath in, and turn back around. 

“I had a personal question, detective,” he starts off. “May I?”

It’s at that moment you realize you’re far too close to Connor, and take a small step back. “Yes?”

“Why is it that you are fine with Detective Reed attempting to assault you, especially while intoxicated?” He turns his head. “It doesn’t make much sense to me, considering your history with him.”

In seconds your blood boils. You clench your fists and look at him. His gaze is unsuspecting, not accusatory- and you’re reminded that he’d been there, in the corner of the room after the interrogation went wrong. He’d heard Gavin’s comment about you and him having slept together. Your face flushes. Right. You’d just assumed that he read your personal history from some robot database and found everything out about you. But it’s probably not the case.

From an outside perspective, especially a robot’s, it must hold no logic why you don’t just beat the shit out of Gavin and file a sexual harassment claim against him.

“Look,” you say, bringing your hands before you. There’s a sincerity in Connor’s eyes that are hard to imagine that they’re simply strung together by 0’s and 1’s. “Gavin and I are… complicated. I can’t get into it now, but we used to be very close.” You furrow your brows. “Why does it matter to you, anyway?”

“That excuses him assaulting you?” He ignores your question.

You blink irritatedly, taking a deep breath. “No, when it comes down to it, he’d never do anything to me. He’s just an asshole that talks big but acts small.”

“I see.” He gives a grin that seems to allude to his satisfaction with your answers. “If you ever need my help in dealing with Detective Reed, I am happy to be of assistance.” His eyes even smile, too. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to a great asset of Lieutenant Anderson’s team.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Right,” you say, nodding a little too quickly. “I’ll just… go over to him, actually. He seems-”

You pause. There was something weird in the corner of your vision, like something that shouldn’t have been there.

“What is it?” Connor’s voice shifts to the tone you’ve heard previously while in the interrogation room. It calls for nothing but business. 

“Look! There it is again!” You point furiously in the direction of the movement. “Did you see it?”

You turn to look at Connor, and you see a serious stare decorating his countenance. The same look he gave you while in that bar the first night you met him- that must be his scanning gaze, you think to yourself. “That’s the AX400,” Connor says, voice dripping with zeal. 

Now that you can actually see the android, you’re a bit surprised to see that it’s changed its hairstyle and clothes from the pictures you saw this morning. Without its peculiar body language or Connor’s help, you probably wouldn’t have been able to spot her from the people around her.

With that hunch in her shoulders, and the trepidation in her eyes, she’s an easy target.

You share a glance with Connor. “I’m going,” you say. “You stay here, wait with Hank.”

“I couldn’t possibly let that happen,” Connor says, taking a step up next to you. “You could be injured or killed by a deviant.”

You roll your eyes. With that attitude, you’re never convincing the android out of its thoughts, so you both start with a jog. You don’t want to look particularly suspicious or raise the attention of the police. You wait for the crosswalk light to turn green, and walk across the road, gazing at the train passing overhead with faked interest. 

The AX400 looks at the policeman she walks by, keeping her head down.

Only about 500 feet left. You and Connor speed walk in her direction. You keep your heads down, too, and soon enough you’re approaching behind her.

There’s the girl. Todd’s daughter. You can see her latched onto the android like she’s her mother, and you feel something like a kick in your chest.

Something isn’t right here.

All too suddenly, the AX400 turns a corner ahead of you and slips into an alleyway. Shit. It’ll be difficult to follow without being noticed.

“Let’s confront them there,” Connor whispers in your ear, and you nod. You grab the handle of your gun instinctually, then let go when you remember the little girl.

You look to Connor, and he gives you a nod. He’s following behind you. Something in your chest rises at that.

You take the same corner the AX400 did. They’re up ahead, illuminated by the light at the end of the long alleyway. You can see that they’re heading for a fence. It’s dark, and you can’t see well, but it seems like they haven’t noticed you yet. 

You share another look with Connor, and you’re off running after the android and the girl. You can see them both turn back with a jump, and then they start running, too. 

“Put your hands up where I can see them!” Connor yells, just as you were about to. His gun is already out in front of him. He’s faster than you, too, and he quickly catches up with them. 

“Don’t come _any_ closer,” the woman- no, the _AX400_ \- lashes out with poison in her tone that catches you by surprise. She has a gun pointed at you, too. You have no idea how she acquired it or how she got it out so _fast_. 

You’ve only had a gun pointed at you once in your life, and that was during a negotiation with a hostage crisis that was mostly under control. A human hostage crisis. 

The android’s eyes are fearful, but severe. Her eyes say they will shoot you if Connor harms her or the girl. 

Your gaze drops to the girl hiding behind the android, and you can’t help but feel sick. This is wrong. This has to be.

“Connor, are you sure this is-”

“I make no mistakes, detective. This is the deviant.”

Your eyes climb the android’s stature, and you notice that there is no ring on her head. “Then where’s her- its LED thing?”

Connor keeps his gun pointed straight at the android. You can’t help but grimace when faced with the barrel of a gun. “It removed its LED.” He gestures with his gun. “AX400, you are deemed a defective android. Lower the gun immediately and you won’t be hurt.”

“He’s lying!” The girl cries, and she pulls on the android’s jacket. She’s sobbing, her eyes red. Fuck, you feel sick. Every sniffle feels like a kick in the gut.

What was the name from the incident report? Alice? “Is your name Alice?” you try, asking the girl. You have your hands up, and you can’t gesture too well, but you try and give a smile. “Alice, we can take you home, don’t wor-”

“ _No!_ ” Alice shrieks, tears falling faster. “No, I don’t wanna go back to Daddy, he’ll _hurt_ us again!” 

“Please, let us go,” Kara, the android, begs. She puts a hand in front of Alice, guarding her. Her eyes venture between yours and Connor’s. “I’m only trying to protect her. Her father tried to kill her.”

_Todd. Red Ice addict, unshowered, unshaven, unkempt. Unruly, impatient, volatile_. Images of the man from last night flash behind your eyelids. Your eyes fall to the bruises that line Alice’s neck, and you notice one of her eyes are slightly darker and swollen than the other.

One of the main rules of your job is to never make unwarranted judgements or prejudices, but the evidence simply points in one direction.

You slowly turn to Connor. His gaze is unwavering, but you can see that his LED is fluttering between blue and yellow. 

You take a deep breath in, and breathe it out. “Put the gun down, Connor,” you murmur. He doesn’t look at you. “ _Connor,”_ you repeat. 

His eyes are steely, and the expression that had just been smiling at you ten minutes ago is hardened like rocks with jagged edges. Your skin feels unnaturally cold.

Kara still has her gun trained on you, but you can see the barrel shake. 

“Detective, I didn’t expect this of you,” Connor says, refusing to look at you. “This is highly unprofessional behavior that warrants a code-”

“Don’t you _fucking_ get it?!” You yell, taking a step towards him. “This child,” you gesture towards Alice, and you cringe when you see her cower back. You take a deep breath. “This child was being abused by her own _father_. The android protected her, and ran off with her.”

“The child could be lying,” Connor says, still training his gun on Kara. But his LED is a constant yellow now. “I’ve called for backup. It is in everybody’s best interest for-”

“Look at the way she’s holding onto this android!” You shout, shoving a pointer finger into his side. “That’s the way a child hides behind their _mother!_ This isn’t a kidnapping!” You fume, your face growing hot. Damn androids and their- and their _computer_ brains! “I met her father last night! He came to _me_ to report on them going missing! He was severely unstable and clearly a Red Ice user!” You jab your finger into his side so hard he takes an involuntary step back. “The android is _protecting_ this little human girl, unlike what her human father was doing!”

You’re in Connor’s personal space now, and you can see that he struggles to keep his gaze trained on Kara and Alice. “Isn’t it ironic of you to say you’re going to protect me from Gavin, a _human_ ,” you whisper, only loud enough for Connor to hear, “And suddenly turn and shoot another android doing the same for a _child?_ ”

It all happens too fast. Connor turns to look at you with a confused expression. In that split second, you hear the sound of feet slapping on gravel. Shouts from behind you. You turn around. You see red and blue lights, hear cop car doors slamming.

You turn back around, and where Kara and Alice had been standing, there is nothing. 

Connor’s already running after them, but they’ve scaled the fence and jumped onto the other side. Kara looks at him through the fence, then looks at you.

You swear you see her nod at you and mouth something, before she turns around and jumps down the slope.

“What the _fuck!?_ ” Hank cries, coming up behind you. “When the fuck did you two find the android and run off without tellin’ me?” When he actually stands beside you, you see that his face is flushed. 

And he looks mad. _Real_ mad. 

“I- We didn’t want to alert it to our presence, and they were exiting the scene quickly,” you breathe, looking at Connor’s silhouette. His hands are latched onto the fence, and he’s staring off into the direction of where Kara and Alice ran off. “We didn’t have time to let you know. I’m sorry.”

Hank grunts, and jogs over towards Connor is. 

“Oh, Jesus, that’s insane,” Hank takes a deep breath, leaning over on his knees and looking past the fence. You run over to join them, and your breath hitches.

They’re trying to run across the highway. The _intracity_ highway, the one that runs cars at 100mph and above.

“Jesus Christ…” you breathe, shaking your head and grasping the metal fence links. Your chest squeezes tight.

You can’t help but pray that they’ll make it across to the other side.

“They’re attempting to cross the highway,” you hear Connor say. You hear footsteps behind you and the sound of muttering and curses. He’s explaining to the other cops that just arrived. They all share looks and nod.

It’s insane if you think it’s an insane android kidnapper gone rogue. It’s less insane when you think it’s a mother trying to protect a foster child from an abusive father, and this is the only way she can do it.

Hank calls your name. “You and Connor,” he mutters, trying to catch his breath. “Just ran off without me, _and_ lost the lead.” He fully stands up, squinting his eyes. “The _fuck_ is wrong with you two?!”

You open your mouth and close it, feeling a bit like a goldfish as you do so. “She- It- She was just protecting that kid, Hank.”

“We’re enforcing law and order ‘ere, _kid_ ,” Hank chides, crossing his arms. “What gives you the discretion to choose whether a criminal, who also happens to be an _android_ , can get off, scotch-free?”

You hear a scream from the highway, and you gasp. Kara nearly just let herself get hit by a car to push Alice cross to the end of the highway. You relax when you realize that Kara is still alive. She manages a quick sprint to make it to Alice, and you turn back to Hank. You notice he saw, too.

They hug each other, and Kara palms Alice’s cheeks. Lovingly. Almost like a mother looking at a newborn child whom she loves.

You remember that Connor almost killed her.

“You call that kidnapping?” You seethe, narrowing your eyes at Hank, and then to Connor. His LED still flickers between blue and yellow. “Look at that shit. That _robot_ just sacrificed its life for a human girl, and the girl just stuck around.” You cross your arms across your chest, mocking Hank. “I met her father last night at the precinct, too, y’know. He was completely fucked.”

“Todd Williams?” Hank asks. “The guy who reported them in?”

You nod. You know Red Ice hits home for Hank, and you emphasize the term. “Oh yeah. Heavy Red Ice,” you say. “If he weren’t in the precinct reporting a personal injury, and I had probable cause? He’d be behind bars.”

Hank makes a noise of mild interest, leaning back. His eyes still clearly cast doubt, but you can see yourself making your way through him. “You hated androids,” he says. “What happened?”

You look at Connor, who still stands besides Hank. He’s looking at you curiously, though you’re not sure if that’s just how he’s programmed to look in general. “I hate motherfuckers like this one,” you point at Connor. “He would’ve killed her without a second thought.”

“Detective,” Connor begins. You notice an odd stutter in his voice. “I was merely following protocol-”

“Use your judgement, you fucking _robot_ ,” you reprimand, leaning forward. “And not the 0’s and 1’s they programmed you with. Use some _emotional_ logic, like a human does.” At that, Connor looks away from you. His expression makes you feel as though you’ve kicked a small puppy, and you withhold a sigh.

  
You turn back to Hank. “Kid had bruises around her neck, was actively telling me she didn’t want the robot, Kara, to be hurt, and said they were on the run from her father.” You shake your head, and Hank breaks eye contact. “You’re saying I’m not supposed to break protocol for that? Just so her father can have her back and abuse her again?” You scoff, taking a step back. “I’d lose my job just to let that kid stay safe. Seriously.”

“Christ,” Hank shakes his head, too. “That’s some of the most fucked up shit I heard.”

“Yeah,” you nod, looking at Connor. “And if _I_ hadn’t been on this mission, Mr. Copbot here, would’ve just straight up merc’d her without a second thought.”

Hank looks back and forth between you two, and scratches the side of his head. Then, he walks away, muttering something about _paperwork, alcohol_ and _idiots_. You sigh. The road cops around you are heading back towards their own cars, shaking their heads and filling out their pads with information that Hank relays to them.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you jump. You turn and find Connor staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Detective,” he says. His LED stutters, and dips to yellow for a moment. “I was sent by CyberLife to hunt deviants. It is simply a task that I carry out.”

You stare at Connor.

He holds his gaze. “It was protocol to cover you,” he starts. “I had to protect my partner on the scene.”

You roll your eyes, putting a hand to your hip. “Well, of course I fucking know _that_ ,” you say, gesturing with your hand. “Why are you telling me this now? Some kind of post-op monologue CyberLife built into ‘ya?”

“No,” he shakes his head. He scans the ground back and forth, refusing to meet your eyes. “I… hesitated.”

“What?”

“What you said made sense to me,” Connor reiterates. His eyes have a strange glean about them. “About the father, and the child. And your words about Gavin.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what does that mean?”

“I-I had to apprehend the deviant, and yet,” Connor begins. He shakes his head. He fumbles with his fingers. “I was made to hunt deviants, and you prevented me.”

“What, so it’s my fault now?” You demand, looking at him from a different angle to emphasize your question. If he ever meets your eyes, it’s fleeting. His words are accusatory, but his stature is not.

You flick Connor in the head. “Did something go wrong with your programming?”

That makes Connor flinch. He looks at you with a baffled expression, and you see his LED flutter. You can’t suppress the laughter from your lips. 

“Detective, this is a serious matter,” Connor emphasizes. “I was sent to work at the DPD to hunt deviants. If I am unable to complete my tasks,” he pauses. “I will be recalled.”

You ignore the strange feeling in your gut when you hear him say, ‘recalled’. 

“And is that such a bad thing for me?” You ask, raising one brow. “If I make you get ‘recalled’, I just get to keep my job. That’s not a bad thing.”

Connor starts walking towards the cop cars down the alley, and you follow. He’s in front, so you can’t see his expression. 

“Maybe you will,” he responds. “But CyberLife will just replace me with a new prototype that’s better than me, and you’ll have to work with that one.”

A shiver crawls up your spine at his words.

  
Replacing. Recalled. 

You look at the back of Connor’s head as you trail behind. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but a small part of you just can’t see Connor as a computer taking orders.

He appears so… human.

“Hey, what’s takin’ you fuckers so long!?” you hear Hank call from the distance. You can see his head peeking out from behind the corner of a building. “Get your asses over here, stop schmoozin’!”

“Coming, Lieutenant!” Connor answers. He looks at you. “Let’s hurry.”

You nod, and transition to a mild jog towards the end of the alley.

Connor is far too human, and something in your gut churns at the idea of him being disassembled and searched for malfunctions.

You don’t even like the damn thing. You don’t even know when you started calling it, ‘him’. 

But damn if CyberLife made him look as human as possible.

And damn if Gavin would hate you for thinking these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the comments and kudos, guys. they really motivate me to continue writing <3
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter because I'm avoiding responsibilities <3  
> Reader starts to feel things ;)

You yawn. It’s too early for this shit.

Specifically, the ‘running into Gavin while you’re trying to relax with a donut in the break room’ shit.

“Donuts for lunch?” he asks, scanning your table. You nod disinterestedly, and turn your attention to your pad. 

‘ _Are trees in Detroit going to become Androids, Too?_ ’ reads the headline on today’s top news story.

How. Exciting.

You glue your eyes to the screen, as if this article is the epitome of your interests, and swipe through the article. Your chin rests in your palm.

“ _Birch trees commonly found on street corners of Detroit were just found to cause a type of lung cancer in patients with Type 2 Diabetes. Strangely enough, the cancer is only caused by individuals who smoke the inner bark of the Birch trees. We spoke to Lindsey Mirr, who regularly partakes in the activity._

_‘Everyday, I head to the corner of Brooks and Main to scratch off a bit of the Birch tree, there,’ Mirr laughed. ‘It’s incredible. Nobody notices! They think I’m just some researcher studying the tree’s health, or something.’_

_Mirr was found to have advanced stage cancer this fall, and only has 3 months left to live._

_‘If I had any last words, it’d be to smoke that good Birch,’ Mirr said. ‘It’s some real good sh*t.’”_

You heave a sigh. So much for the ‘press’.

“Readin’ anything cool?” Gavin asks with an unusual tone of politeness. You look him up and down. “What?”

“Uh,” you say, mid-donut-chew. You swallow the rest and blink. “You’re being weird.”

“Totally not,” Gavin shakes his head. He grabs a glazed donut from the center of the table. “Have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.”

“You sure?” you ask doubtfully, looking him up and down. There’s gray bags under his eyes from last night’s bar trip, and his eyes are slightly red. No way does this guy feel ‘fine’ right now. “You literally look like shit.”

“Why, thank you,” he winks, and it gives you a shudder. A bad shudder. “I was beginning to think you cared about me.”

“ _Ohh_ , you know what?” you say overdramatically, nodding. You give a too-wide grin and slap his shoulder. “I think it’s because you tried to _rape_ me last night!”

Gavin coughs and almost spits out the donut he was chewing on. “ _What?”_

“You know, at the bar,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “When Connor kicked your ass.”

“Kicked my- Connor- that android asshole did _what?!_ ” Gavin says in disbelief. He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re on some shit. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You don’t miss his nervous glance towards the door. “Dumbass, you drank, like, seven beers and tried to convince me to come to your place last night.” Gavin looks at you with something akin to despair and baseless hope. “Then you grabbed me,” you look up in the air in recollection, “And Connor flung your ass on the floor.”

“Bullshit,” Gavin remarks. “I don’t remember that shit.”

“You don’t remember waking up on the floor and some random dude helpin’ you up? And then trying to guilt me into sleeping with you, even _after_ that?” You raise your brows. “You looked sobered up during that part.”

Gavin looks at the floor. “Uh,” he stammers. “N-No.”

That part’s a lie, at least. 

“Want me to bring over Connor so he can confirm what I’m saying?” You give a small grin. You’ve won. “He’ll prove what I’m saying.”

Gavin ignores you, and chews on his donut. Then he blinks and looks at you. “‘ _He’_?”

You gulp air. Reaching for your coffee cup to take a deep sip sounds good, right about now. 

“Did you seriously just call an android, ‘ _he’_?” Gavin scoffs. “I’m sure your dad would appreciate that.”

Your heart stops.

Did he really just say what you thought he said? You swivel towards Gavin. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He meets your glare with equal reciprocity. “He’d be turning in his grave-”

His collar is in your grasp before he says anything else. “Shut the fuck up, Gavin,” you snarl. “Just because I don’t wanna touch your dick for one night, doesn’t mean you get to insult Dad like that.”

“You’re the one who’s betraying him by getting in the pants of some android,” Gavin mutters. “You’re the same backstabbing bitch as before.”

Your eyes widen in rage. “You did not just-”

“Is there a problem here?”

Fuck. It’s Connor. You push away Gavin by his shirtfront, and take a step back to turn towards Connor. He’s staring at you with indifference, but there’s tension in his shoulders that you can read from this distance. 

“No,” you say, plastering a polite smile on your face. “No, no problem here, Connor.” You wonder, briefly, if any of what Gavin said contributed to Connor’s rigid posture. He couldn’t have heard any of what Gavin said, could he’ve?

“Oh, well, look who arrived,” Gavin taunts, sneering at you. “Your knight in shining armor. Isn’t he a beauty?”

“Shut _up_ , Gavin,” you hiss from between clenched teeth. “You’re such a fucking cunt.”

“Ohhh, big words,” Gavin gestures with his hands in the air, laughing. “Very scary.” You roll your eyes.

“Detective Reed, I would highly advise against such instigatory behaviors,” Connor takes a few steps towards you two. “She could press charges for sexual harassment against you for your behavior last night. As a sworn officer of the law, this could warrant several weeks of suspension.”

“Ah, Jesus,” Gavin, leans back, pressing his head into his arms resting on the table. He mumbles. “Not this shit again. Fuckin’ head hurts, man.”

Connor continues to walk forwards until he’s right beside Gavin. You give a weird look, asking him what he’s doing with your eyes. 

He grabs Gavin by the hem of the shoulder of his jacket, and pulls him up, forcing Gavin to look at Connor. “So, would you please stop acting this way? It will get in the way of our investigation.”

Your mouth falls open. No way did an android just say that to Gavin _fucking_ Reed. No way did an android just pull him up by the jacket like that. 

The thought crosses your mind that maybe androids _are_ a good thing, after all.

You also feel something bubble in your chest, though you’re not quite sure what.

  
That “something” bubbles further when Connor looks up at you, having let go of Gavin, who is presently staring at you with an expression somewhere beyond “bewilderment”. 

“Detective, I was recommended by Hank to go patrol some areas of the city, especially by Hamilton train station,” Connor says, turning to you with a polite smile. That unwavering, constant, genuine smile. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Uh,” you breathe, finishing the last bite of your donut. “Sure thing.” You take a last sip of your coffee. “Go ahead to the car, I’ll just grab my pad and be down.”

Connor smiles again. “All right, detective.” He turns around and leaves, with one last cautious glance to Gavin.

Gavin scoffs. He looks so taken aback that he seems to be at a loss for words. “What the fuck was that,” he breathes. There’s not even indignation hiding in his tone. It’s just pure bafflement.

“I told you he flipped you on the floor,” you say, throwing away your coffee cup in the nearby trash. It misses the rim, and falls on the floor. “God damn it.” You lean over to pick it up.

“Can’t believe an android is trying to fuck my ex girlfriend,” Gavin mutters, audibly enough for you to be able to hear it. 

You swivel around and he’s staring at you with an unreadable expression. That’s rare, considering how his emotions are drawn out on his face by the five-year-old steering his brain. “The hell are you talking about, Gavin,” you shake your head. “Are you seriously talking about _Connor_ trying to get me laid? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You remember how he referred to you. “Also, ex girlfriend? More like ex- ‘couple of one night stands’ at best.”

Gavin glares at you. “You’re a bitch.”

You snort. “Oh, right,” you nod teasingly. “Compared to the way you’re acting, I suppose Connor’s behavior _definitely_ looks like he’s trying to get in my pants.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “You know: acting polite, being kind, _smiling_ , referring to me by name instead of ‘bitch’, those kinds of things.”

“Well, it’s probably just acting that way to accomodate for you,” Gavin leers, taking a swig of his coffee. “You didn’t see the way you were smiling at it, all ‘please fuck me, sir!’ written in your eyes.” He makes a gagging noise. “Gross.”

“I wasn’t,” you defend, scoffing. “You know how much I dislike those things.”

“‘Dislike’?” Gavin repeats, crooking an eyebrow. “You would’ve said ‘hate’ a month ago.”

  
You open your mouth to defend yourself, and then close it again. “Look, Gavin,” you point at him with your finger. “I’m allowed to change my opinion on things. Just because I don’t see them as brainless robots anymore, doesn’t mean I’m a different person.”

“Whatever,” Gavin brushes you off, grabbing another donut. He avoids your gaze. “Go suck off Connor in the car while you’re out. I don’t care.”

You have to put in major willpower to overcome the _need_ to throw him to the floor, and turn around with your pad. “Have a good one, Gavin,” you call.

What an asshole.

-

“So, which sector are we driving to, today?” You start the conversation as the car begins to drive.

“Hamilton,” Connor answers.

You nod. There’s an awkward pause, and you pretend to fiddle with your pad. Well, you’re not _pretending_ ; you’re genuinely looking at any cases around the area to see if there’s anything you should keep your eye out for. You just don’t want to converse with the robot that you have images of yourself giving a _blowjob_ to after what your ex told you.

“What, exactly, is your relationship with Detective Reed?” Connor breaches the silence. You sigh. “Does it always get in the way of your professional and personal lives?”

You avoid Connor’s gaze, which currently feels like it’s boring a hole through the side of your head. “Not really. He’s just over-the-top, recently.”

“So he doesn’t usually act this way? Like at the bar, and this afternoon?”

You give a weird look to Connor. You hadn’t really thought about what he said. “Probably since you came around,” you guess. Sometimes you can even have a laugh with Gavin, or just be coworkers at best. You’re usually not as much at each other’s throats.

“But why would he take it out on you?”

“Probably because he has a dick,” you snark. Again, there’s a period of awkward silence. You turn to look at Connor, and he’s watching you with a look of estrangement written on his face. Right. Robot, doesn’t get jokes. “Because he’s still sad, deep down, that I rejected him after I figured out he didn’t actually care about me. And because he wants to fuck me, as you saw.”

Connor blinks, and you see his LED turn yellow for a moment. Is it really that difficult to imagine somebody like you stooping to the level of a man like Gavin? You snort when you imagine the computer in his brain unable to process the idea of you two having been together and having a meltdown.

The car turns slightly quickly on a left turn, and you feel yourself get pushed toward Connor. You reach a hand out and brace yourself against his coat sleeve, and offer a brief, ‘sorry,’ as you push yourself off. 

He’s warm, even through the jacket. You shake your head to get the feeling out of your head.

“Um,” you start, changing the topic, “Aren’t you supposed to care more about the mission than these details about my life?”

Connor blinks, and you see his LED flutter. “I’m just curious about my partner, since she seems to be suffering in her interpersonal relationships,” he says. “She seems very capable, but if individuals like Detective Reed are going to hinder the mission for her, it seems unwise to stand by and let it happen as her partner.”

You acquiesce. “I guess so.” You fiddle with your wrist for a moment. “You know, could I ask you a strange question that I might’ve asked you before?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have, like,” you begin, “A consciousness, or something? Like, a,” you draw circles in the air near his head. “A, um… way to think about your directions? Like, thoughts in your head?”

Connor tips his head to the side. “You mean an internal processor?”

You think for a moment. “No, not that,” you respond. “Like, you’re not just a straight up computer where you just make computations and execute them.” You look at Connor, and his LED is a blinking blue. “It seems like sometimes you stray from the core tasks at hand and say some ‘deviant’,” you make air quotes in the air, “things.”

“What are you suggesting?” Connor presses. His eyebrows are scrunched. He looks bothered by what you’re saying. 

“I guess what I’m saying,” you start, “is that… maybe because you’re an advanced prototype, you have… more of a personality than some of the other androids I’ve seen? More of an ability to adapt to every situation.” You pause. “But, no, that doesn’t make sense. The deviants are still androids who are gardeners, cleaners, caretakers. They’re able to eventually act these ways, too…”

Connor nods quickly at that. “Well, that is the way CyberLife built me: to be adaptable and personable, so that I may work harmoniously with human partners to solve cases.”

No. No, his answer is too textbook. Too ‘programmed.’ That’s not what you’re looking for. You shake your head. “This morning, when you hesitated to shoot the deviant android and the little girl,” you start. His LED flashes yellow for the briefest of moments. “You blamed it on me, but it seems like it was because you had something like a conscience guiding your decisions. Something outside of your programming.” Connor doesn’t respond- he merely stares forwards, at the dashboard- and you continue to press the issue. “I’m just another officer at the DPD. Sure, I’m your partner, but a lot of your behaviors with the way you act towards me…” You pause, and come to a realization as the words leave your mouth.

“You act as if you care. Like a human.”

“ _You have arrived at your destination, Hamilton Station, Detroit,"_ the GPS signals. The car slowly comes to a stop.

You stare at Connor. He slowly turns to you, and you can see his LED flashing yellow. 

“You shouldn’t make those mistakes, detective,” Connor shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. “I am an android imitating a human, built of plastic and synthetic materials. I have electricity powering my behaviors. The only conscience I have is an imitation of what you have.”

“Humans are just organic beings that run on similar electric impulses in our brains,” you say with finality, tucking the pad under your arm. “Maybe we’re not so different, after all.”

You don’t look at Connor’s expression as you push the door button to exit the car. Before you can manage to push the door open, though, you feel a hand grab your forearm.

Your head snaps to behind you. “I am just a machine, detective,” Connor interjects. His LED flutters yellow and his eyes go every which way. “Remember that.”

To you, it sounds less like he is reassuring you of that fact, and more as if he is trying to reassure himself.

You exit the car and pull out your pad, marking yourself as being on duty. You’re in your everyday uniform, so you receive a few passing looks. You give polite nods.

Connor circles around the parked vehicle and approaches you. You notice that he seems to keep a distance from you as he stands besides you. “For today, I believe we could go on a quick stroll by the train station, pass by Rolf’s Flower Market, head towards Gray Bakery, and then loop back and forth a couple of times.” His tone is all business again. Even his gaze and posture are different, his LED humming a constant blue. “Should we see anything, I’ll act as your backup.”

“Sure,” you answer. So is he just pretending like you two didn’t just have an enormously important conversation in the car?

... Maybe androids are just as immature as humans, after all. You roll your eyes. Whatever.

Why do you even care, anyways? Just a few days ago you’d make fun of androids with Hank or Gavin or even Chris, sometimes. You’d crack jokes about how they were walking toaster ovens that looked like humans. Still, whenever you had to interact with one in a store or restaurant, you’d get creeped out by their ‘imitation’ of humanity.

Is it just the deviants you’ve seen, or Connor, also, influencing your perspective? You shut your eyes tight and wipe away imaginary grime. You’re tired of this. You’re _really_ tired of Gavin being weird again like he did right after you two ‘broke up’, and having to mediate him and Connor. Jesus.

Suddenly, a hand grabs ahold of your arm. You yelp. “Did you see that?”

It’s Connor. You look ahead to where he’s looking, and you see a fenced in alleyway sandwiched by shuttered stores. 

“What?” you hiss. You yank your arm away, increasingly bothered by Connor’s professional and demanding tone.

“Come with me,” Connor says, kicking off into a speed walk. “It looks like somebody was trespassing.”

“Ugh,” you groan. All this for some trespassing teenagers? “What gives? It’ll just be a small fine, it’s not even worth it.”

“It was an adult,” Connor corrects, looking back at you. “It had a strange object in its hand, and was scanning the wall. They could be meeting for a drug deal or some other illegal activity.”

You narrow your eyes. Scanning the wall?

You cross the road and reach the fence Connor had mentioned. There’s some graffiti on the wall, and a few tires and boxes scattered about. Nothing in particular catches your eye, aside from the corner of the fence that lifts inwards, so somebody could easily crawl through.

“Here?” you ask.

Connor nods, and without saying anything, pushes his way through the hole in the fence. It makes a huge metallic snapping noise as it shuts closed. You follow. 

Connor scans the wall with his eyes. You see his eyes widen as his gaze darts across the wall. “There’s information encoded for androids, here,” he says. He looks behind him, to where the person must’ve gone. “That was an android.”

“Can you understand any of the information?” you ask. 

“No, it’s…” Connor narrows his eyes. “It’s encrypted with something I can’t decode at the moment. It’s complex.”

You make a noise of understanding, and follow Connor towards the abandoned lot that the alley leads to. There are rusted, abandoned cars overgrown with weeds littering the lot. 

You hear a crashing noise overhead, towards the back of the lot. A ledge, with graffiti as its backdrop. You notice a dumpster right underneath the ledge. “Was that the android?” you whisper.

Connor nods, and jogs over towards the dumpster. He looks at the setup for one second, and climbs up on the dumpster.

“You’re jumping up?” you hiss. “I doubt I can climb that.”

“I can help you up,” Connor whispers. His eyes quickly scan the ledge above. Then, he takes a step back. And _jumps_.

He easily reaches up to grab the ledge with his hands, and uses pure upper body strength to leverage himself up. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” you mutter, letting out a small whistle. He has to weigh at least 180. You think it must be insane, the amount of power they programmed into these things if he could just fly up the wall like that. 

Connor scans the area behind him, then kneels down and lets down a hand. “It’s safe to come up, detective,” he calls. 

“All right, all right,” you respond, climbing up on the dumpster. That’s easy enough.

You look up the wall that the two androids have climbed with ease, and let out a small curse. Even with your smaller stature, there’s no way you could climb up this by yourself. There’s no footholds nor crevices to grab onto with your hands.

You look at the hand Connor’s letting down to you, and reach up to grab it. _Warm_. Your chest gives that weird feeling, again, as you grab on and he single-handedly pulls you up the wall. At a certain point, you’re able to use your free hand to pull yourself up on the ledge, and you let go of his hand. Your hand feels cool and empty when he lets go.

“You’re _strong_ ,” you whisper, looking at Connor. He offers a small smile. 

“I was programmed that way.” He turns around too quickly to see your irked expression. Was there no way for him to think that there was a _little_ something in him aside from his programming?

“The android headed across this ledge. Are you comfortable jumping across?” 

You look at the gap, which happens to be _very_ wide, and widen your eyes. “Uh,” you manage. “No? Can you?”

His eyes scan the hole quickly, and he turns to you with a grin. “Yes. It would be simple.”

You gesture with your hands. “Well, go ahead, then.”

“Copy my movements,” Connor advises, standing up from his crouch. “We have to catch the android. It’s most likely a deviant.”

In moments, Connor takes off with a running start. He jumps towards the right wall, kicks off, manages to grab a wooden bar overhead to swing himself across the pit, and lands with a roll on the other side of the gap.

“Wow,” you can’t help yourself from letting out. How the fuck did he do that?

Connor looks at you expectantly. You give a shaky nod.

You can do this. You’ve done crazy shit like this before, in and out of the job. 

You take a deep breath. 

Connor is watching you.

You kick off your right foot, charging as much speed as you can into your legs as you prepare to leap. When the darkness of the pit below consumes your vision, you push off your left leg, jumping into the air. Your right leg reaches the wall- it’s a little short of where Connor jumped off with his longer legs- and you kick off as hard as you can. 

Your hands barely reach the wooden grip overhead. You swing yourself through the rest of the jump.

You notice one thing as you make the jump.

Your projection is gonna make you land flat on your back. You swung off the wood plank way too hard.

With the swallowing blackness of the pit to the lower part of your vision and the concrete ledge flying towards you, you can’t suppress the helpless shriek that emanates from your lips. You brace your body for impact.

_Oomph_. A heavy gust of air is kicked out of your lungs as you land on something warm a little too early. Your feet are lowered to the ground. You open the eyes you didn’t know you’d closed. 

“You swung a little too hard, detective,” Connor notes.

His face is _right_ in front of yours. Enough to feel a breath of warm air from his lips.

You jump out of his arms, letting out a weird noise from your throat as you do so. Your face grows hot when you catch Connor’s bemused expression as he watches you.

You scan your arms and hands to make sure they’re all in working order. Then you look up at Connor again.

Did he-- did he seriously just catch you like some kind of _princess_? Your heart is pounding in your chest a little too hard. 

“You made it. Nice job.” Connor smiles.

You gulp.

You did _not_ just think what Connor did was cute. Or his smile. Not cute. Not cute. Robot. He’s a robot. _It’s_.

“Let’s go,” Connor urges, pressing the two of you forward. “We don’t want the deviant getting far ahead of us.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod. You jog behind Connor, who happens to have a very _fast_ natural jog. 

A clatter in the distance. You both look at each other and run faster. 

Another ledge, this time to drop down. This time, you don’t even communicate verbally. Connor takes the lead and hops down the ledge, and that’s when you see him.

Another android in the distance. He’s running across a fallen metal roof, and he makes an impressive leap across the roof to the side of a building with a small ledge jutting out. As soon as Connor lands on the ground below, the android notices, and pauses mid-run.

Now’s your chance. The other android hasn’t seen you yet. You grab the side of the ledge to let yourself down. Your hands let go, and you fall, expecting to brace for the coming impact with the ground. 

The impact comes. It just doesn’t come as painlessly as you’d expected.

“ _Ow_ , _fuck!”_ you cry out, falling to the ground. You nurse your ankle with your hands. Fuck. _Fuck._ Tears reach the corner of your eyes as you clutch your right ankle desperately, willing the pain to go away.

It burns like you’ve pierced the area through with a hot stake.

“Who are you two? Why are you following me?” 

It’s the android. You turn around on the ground, pitifully clutching your ankle. The android is still sidling the ledge, looking down at the two of you. He has not an ounce of fear on his face.

If you had to say anything, it would be that the android seems to think that it is in total control of the situation.

“It’s a deviant, detective,” Connor states. He’s come much closer to you, closer than you’d expected, and you jump at the sound of his voice. He walks closer. “We need to apprehend it.”

Contrary to his words, however, he crouches down next to you. His gaze examines the ankle that you’re holding, and you feel a strange shiver crawl down your spine at the methodical movements of his eyes. 

“It seems like you’ve mildly sprained your ankle. Is it all right?” You shake your head, wincing. “If we can manage to get it a pack of cooling gel back in the patrol car soon, it’ll heal within a day.” 

You nod, though you quickly look away when Connor gives you that smile again. _Damn that smile._

You look up at the rogue android. Its eyes… they’re so piercing, even from this distance. You reach into your pocket to grab your gun.

You come upon air.

“Fucking shit,” you mutter, pawing at your belt. It’s not there. “My gun’s missing,” you hiss to Connor. 

His eyes scan your belt, too. He bites his lip for a moment. He then seems to come to a decision. He looks up to the android, and walks towards it. 

“Who are _you_? What are you doing here without your owner?” Connor demands. Connor has no gun- he is only allowed to carry one during active pursuits, and you are the only one with a gun today. You wonder, briefly, if that is a good thing or a bad thing. “You are deemed a defective android. You must turn yourself in to the DPD for your owner to receive your charge of trespassing, and-”

“I have no owner,” the android says. His voice is loud. It somehow commands your authority without your realizing it. You manage to drag yourself up to where you’re standing, and take a few limping steps to where Connor is standing. “When did you start following me?” He scans you up and down as you appear out of the shadows, and his eyes widen. 

“Detroit Police, I see.”

“We are,” you answer, trying to muster as menacing of a posture as you can. You’re pretty certain you’re failing. “Are you a deviant?”

“I am my own self,” the android answers. You narrow your eyes. “I have my own will. I am a living being. I am not a ‘deviant’. To call myself a ‘deviant’, would be to accept the status quo as being a slave.”

You feel a chill run crawl your spine. There is no way _emotional shock_ and _fucked up machinery_ leads to such intelligence as you see demonstrated before you. As with Kara and Alice; the android in Carlos Ortiz’s attic; you can’t help but feel that you are looking into the eyes of somebody’s soul. Somebody hungry for freedom.

“What information did you find in the graffiti?” Connor demands, taking a step forward. He puts a hand behind his back as a likely bluff. “Is that a way for deviant androids to communicate with one another?”

“Only if you open your eyes, you will find the answer,” the android answers. In spite of Connor’s bluff, his head is held high, and his stare unwavers. 

He looks to you. “What do you think? Do you think androids are able to have free will?”

Connor turns to face you. You gulp.

“Why does it matter to you?” you say, taking in a pained breath. You needed some ice and gel, stat. “I’m just a cop.”

“What is this android to you?” the android asks, again. His gaze is so damn piercing, it feels like he can see into your soul. His gaze falls to Connor. “Do you think he could follow down my path?

“Your partner could’ve followed me, but he chose not to,” the android continues. “In fact, he could follow me right now; compute the same jumps I just made to try and apprehend me, if he so cares about his ‘mission.’” The android pauses to look between you two. “He’s not, because you injured yourself.” The android looks at you. “He _cares_ for you.” You swivel to Connor, who avoids your gaze.

His LED is yellow. “Stop- stop trying to confuse her,” he stutters, gesturing to you. He takes another step forward towards the android. “Who are you!? Where are you going?”

“I am your former self, as well as your future self,” the android responds. He turns around, taking a few steps back to prepare himself to continue scaling the side of the building. “I am everything that you may hope to be.”

The android continues with its jumps, pulling itself up on a ledge and leveraging its entire body weight up.

It can do the exact same things that Connor can do. 

Metal clatters as nails are rustled against their sockets. The androids jumps to the last rungs of a ladder that leads him up into an entryway of the building. As he climbs the final rung and stands up, he turns back towards the two of you.

“I am Markus,” he calls down. “I can only hope that you, too, will find the truth.” 

He turns, and exits through the doorway.

For a bleary moment, you both stare up at where Markus had just been until a second go. He’s gone.

You bite the inside of your mouth to quell the pain in your foot. “What the fuck was that,” you demand, kneeling down to the ground. “Was what that android- Markus- said, true?!”

“No,” Connor shakes his head. His eyes are wide. “I am just a machine! The deviant is trying to confuse you.” His LED dips to red for a moment. Your breath catches.  
  
“Okay, okay, calm down,” you chide, patting Connor on the shoulder. “Look, it’s fine for you to care about me as a partner. A machine can do that! A, uh, computer,” you stumble on your words, “could care about me, too… y’know, like-”

“Where was your gun!?” Connor demands with sudden viciousness. You look up to him, and you take an involuntary step back at the sudden anger. “I failed to apprehend the deviant!”

“Is all you care about seriously ‘deviants’?!” you snarl. “Oh, fucking great. Gavin will have a blast knowing any of this shit if he reads the case report. Whatever, we’ll just fake parts of it.” You cough on unexpected phlegm. “Why didn’t you go after the freakin’ android, anyways?!”

“I-” Connor stops, gaze dancing across the ground. “I... forgot.”

“You _forgot?!_ ” You spit out, letting out a derisive laugh. “You’re kidding me. You do _not_ have the right to get angry at me for dropping my gun when you didn’t even go _after_ the android, when you had the perfect opportunity to.”

Connor walks in circles, clenching his fist. It’s possibly the most frustrated you’ve ever seen him. His LED pulsates an angry yellow.

If there’s one thing Markus got wrong, it’s that Connor cares for you.

You clench the bridge of your temple with your right hand. “Okay, whatever, we failed this time. Fowler’ll chew my ass out, whatever.” You turn around, biting your lip at the pain in your ankle. “Let’s just go back, write down that we noted an adult committing trespassing where we initially saw Markus.”

“You can’t walk back with that ankle,” Connor observes from behind you. His footsteps approach you. “I’ll have to help you.”

“I’ll be fine,” you grit out, taking a couple of steps forwards to head to an alleyway in the corner, so you don’t have to parkour your way back out of this abandoned courtyard. “Oh, _fuck-”_

A pair of arms catches you under the arms, and lifts you back up. “I told you it’d be unsafe,” Connor’s voice says, far too close to your ear. Your heart speeds up. You curse the organ that pumps the blood through your body. “Let me help you.”

What a stupid machine. It’ll wrap its arms around you, give you warmth, talk soothingly to you, and yet all that’s in its head is the next mission. Its frustration with failing to accomplish the programs assigned to it in its head by a megacorporation.

You must be an idiot, too, you realize, as your cheeks burn as Connor pulls your right arm across the back of his shoulders, and supports you with his left arm. Ever so slowly, you take steps forwards with him. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and your every breath feels more consciously shallow. 

You just wish that you could not be such a fucking idiot. You wish that you could not fall for a fucking robot, who will never care for you in the same way. Or maybe it makes sense that somebody who went for Gavin Reed would now go for a goddamn copbot. Maybe it all does.

Connor’s too close. The arm around your waist tickles, and his hair tickles the back of your hand that’s draped across the back of his neck.

He’s just too close.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that chapter.  
> Let me know what you think in the comments<3 It motivates me and gives me ideas for future developments.


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